31

I choose eggs and crêpes, and Brandon pours me a glass of juice. I didn’t want to ask Brandon during a meal, but I’m curious about what he means by the real him.

I watch him as he eats, fascinated by him. Brandon is gorgeous, even if I only see half his face.

“What?” He stops.

“You’re not aware of how insanely attractive you are, are you?” I rest my chin on my palm, gawking at him.

He smirks. “I was. I was aware, until this.” He points to the masked side of his face. He continues to eat.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

I’m dying of curiosity. I want to know him more deeply. I know it isn’t proper to ask him about it over a meal, but I can’t help to want to find out more about him. Sure, I know small things about him—stories from his cousins, but none from him. I want to know his side of the story.

I munch on the last of my pancake. I'm waiting for him to answer. All I hear are his heavy breaths.

“Are you finished?” he asks, looking at my empty plate, soaked in maple syr